I’m not the one with the polished smile,
Not the one faking it.
Yet I kept pretending to forget your touch,
But it always returns,
Veiling my smile and clouding my mind.
Now here I am.
I sit on the mountain with my toes in the grass.
I see clouds conspiring on the horizon,
Telling tales of what lies beyond.
Perhaps it is you waiting,
Or just memories.
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